Dude, We Could Be Heroes
by Cloud Green
Summary: Fawkesbridge: home to dynamic duo Nightbird and Blonde Chameleon. Adored by all, they keep the streets clean and their identities secret. However, Blaine's world turns upside down when he falls for the latest villain in town - a bank robber known as Shadow. Little does he know the boy under the Shadow's hood may already be in his life. Comic!Heroes!Blam Misunderstood!Criminal!Kurt
1. Chapter 1

A.N. So, it's technically the first of April - albeit two minutes past midnight - so here goes my first 'One Story in One Month' challenge! I'm optimistic I can do it, as I've already planned this out and lots of it has been written. Shorter than some others, I plan to 'blitz this story out' – maybe once a week? Now, for the few people who are thinking 'Uh, what the hell, Cloud Green? You said you'd focus on *enter other fic here* and now you're uploading a story no one asked for?' – I am sorry! The trouble is this idea came to me one night when I was in bed – the whole story except for one scene – in just a couple of minutes. The next day I wrote 4 out of the 6 chapters completely and the 5th and 6th were heavily plotted out. And then I didn't upload them. They have been sitting in my documents folder for months just mocking me. Therefore, my posting them now is essentially my inability to take the taunting. And if you are interested in more background, it is actually this story's _sequel_ which I was hooked on writing. The sequel is a lot darker and faster-paced with some physical / sexual / mental torture to boot. So by uploading this 'prequel' of sorts means that when I finally get round to writing _that_ fic, readers will be ready. But with the focus on the upcoming Funny Games III, the sequel to this one will probably be a while. The writing of this fic will not interfere with others: I plan on uploading the last Rebound Arrangement chapter some time on Friday, with Funny Games taking it's place as a weekly update.

I just want to point out a couple of things about this fic that I feel is important: first, it is not my usual kind of story and I accept that, and two, it truly is not meant to be sensibly logical. Think to the comic books: in a major city like Gotham, is it _really_ believable one man (despite his gadgets and help from a few others) is responsible for 'saving the city'? Can beating a couple of bad guys each night really stop the overflow of crime? No, and the comics don't try to explain how our heroes do it because it would just ruin the fun. In this fic, Blaine and Sam are heroes and they are celebrated for being responsible for the safety of the city. Though unrealistic, I ask you to just go with it. They have no special powers or training but they are _BLAM!_ so we can accept that they are awesome, yes? Yes. Thanks for your understanding!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, all rights go to Fox, Ryan Murphy etc. I only take credit for this particular plot.

Warning: Bad language, a little violence, scenes of a sexual nature, occasional angst.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

'_K – 9617, Squad car nine, suspects are zero-point-3 miles east on Fischer's Avenue. Air officers report seven in alleyway across from the subway station entrance.'_

Officer Reading's foot pressed down on the gas pedal. Beside him, his partner reached for the radio speaker to respond to the most recent transmission. 'This is squad car nine, we are approaching the scene.' Officer York reported gruffly. 'The witness who called in said she only saw five men – can the guys in the chopper confirm all seven in the alley are part of the drug ring, or should we expect _additional _back up?' Reading threw his partner a knowing glance as they sped through the near-empty streets of the city at night.

The radio went through a pocket of silence, filled only with the cackle of frequency waves, until at last the female on the other end responded. _'They confirm there is already a fight underway and, despite having limited views of the alley system, think it's safe to assume you guys have help.'_

By the end of her message, Officers Reading and York were pulling up sharply to the side street in question. Prepping their guns, they stormed the alleyway just in time to watch what appeared to be the final moments of an epic brawl. Strewn across the puddle-ridden ground were the unconscious and bleeding bodies of three men. All were large, all were tough, and all were known drug dealers. There goes at least three cells tonight, York thought to himself as his eyes followed the smattering of guns on the ground until his attention was focused on the four other individuals. Even from thirty feet away the cop recognised the notorious Bradley Brothers, the worst of the city's worst when it came to ruthless thugs and the current ringleaders of the illegal drug and weapon trade. To have both in the one confined area seemed unreal and in any other scenario York might have been terrified of meeting his end there and then, but the fact of the matter was it seemed his job was taken care of.

Both brothers, apparently rendered unarmed, were having their asses handed to them by the final two men in the alleyway. The Chameleon, dressed in his standard dark green, one-piece suit complete with matching mask, delivered a firm blow to Kevin Bradley's jaw and the crook took to the concrete floor. The blonde leaned over him to guarantee his knock-out before turning to aid his comrade. However, the dark-haired man, known locally as 'Nightbird', did not need any extra help. Within moments, the second brother had been taken care of with a fast kick to the throat. With all suspects now out for the count and ready for easy arrests, the two masked vigilantes grinned at one another and gave a very lively high five. They then turned to the officers at the mouth of the alley and Chameleon issued a respectful salute. 'They're all yours, gentlemen,'

Reading moved as if to approach but York tiredly held his arm back. They watched the leather-clad pair race down to the adjacent street for their typical 'Our work here is done' exit. Reading removed his hat and smoothed his hair back as he sighed. 'Remember back when we were expected to try and arrest them?'

Hearing his partner's voice leaning lightly on a nostalgic tone, York snorted 'Thank God none of us managed it. I work hard for my money, Al, but this city would still be the hellhole it was five years ago if those two hadn't turned up. I'm not complaining, and neither should you.' With that, he pulled out his handcuffs and left Reading to radio in the news.

* * *

The city of Fawkesbridge was going through a period of change. Once the seedy underbelly of American crime, its reputation was rapidly becoming attractive. Thriving in the business district and flourishing in the realm of modern technology were aspects most revered by neighbouring communities. It was, for all intents and purposes, exactly the type of city its founders claimed it could be before corruption set in. And according to the citizens, the unexpected soaring of success was entirely due to the dynamic duo who seemingly appeared out of nowhere five years ago.

Photographs taken by eye witnesses were on practically every teenage girl's bedroom wall or school locker, and there was a great deal of media speculation over who the young role models were behind their masks. First, there was 'The Chameleon'. Tall, strong and blonde; the Chameleon was the more physically intimidating of the two though his goofy smile was caught on camera more often than his counterpart's was. His leather suit covering his whole frame was the dark shade of an evergreen tree and his boots and mask were of a similar nature. Stitched into front-shoulder areas of his outfit were the two halves of a set of scales. It was obvious why; with his partner, he sought justice for those who had been wronged by evildoers. Nightbird's own leather suit also covered every inch of his body from the neck down and was deep navy blue colour which could melt into the darkness of night with ease. He was known to be a couple of inches shorter than Chameleon and of a slimmer build but he was equally admired for his speed and improved agility. Hair as black as the night sky, his appearance was completed with the silhouette of a warbler, the bird on the city's emblem, etched across his chest. Councilmen spoke with pride that it proved he was a fighter for the people which the emblem represented. Of course, in the first year of their vigilante work they were less than welcomed by officials: there were numerous questions as to the identity of the men who destroyed violent gangs, caught wanted men and women and delivered them into the hands of baffled police officers, and was there talks of threat from them in regards to public safety. The public support paved the way for their media redemption and it had been over three years since anyone had spoken negatively of the duo in the press.

With new theories of who the heroes were being batted around every day, it was every person's dream to finally discover the real names of the Chameleon and Nightbird and to idolise their unmasked faces. But the secret, it seemed, was not to be revealed. The men under the suits were quick, shrewd and, above all, Fincredibly discreet about their identities.

* * *

'_Nightbird_! Come here a second!'

Blaine's eyes widened in alarm and he dove over his desk for the window. Slamming the frame closed and locking it in place, he yelled back, 'Geez, Sam, the window was open! You want our whole street to hear you?'

From the kitchen came the delayed response 'Oh. Sorry. Anyway, come here – I want you to check something.' Blaine – AKA Nightbird – rolled his eyes and trudged through the apartment to the kitchen. He had been having this struggle all these years trying to get his best friend and roommate to only ever use their alter-ego names when they were suited up but it was a battle he was no closer to winning; Sam just had no filter sometimes. The blonde was waiting for him, shirtless and sitting by the breakfast table. He twisted to face away from Blaine. 'I got this real sharp pain down the right side of my back. Is it bruised or anything?' Blaine peered and ran his fingers over the skin. 'It's worse at my shoulder blade. I think one of the guys from last night got a hit in.'

'It's bruised, but I think that's about it. Let me check.' Blaine then started manouvering Sam's arm and upper body, feeling for problem signs. Sam winced but let him do his thing. As a fully-qualified doctor and long-time best friend, Blaine could be trusted to give an accurate diagnosis. 'You'll be fine, it's just a little swollen and bruised up. Let it heal.' Blaine narrowed his eyes. 'That means not going to the gym. Today weights are _not_ your friend.' Sam grumbled in compliance and gingerly put his shirt back on. Issuing a fond smile, Blaine moved off to pick up the daily newspaper he had been reading earlier. 'I should commend you on a job well done; the front page is all about the drugs bust from last night.' He read a few lines from the article, ''_Drug lords known as the Bradley Brothers were finally apprehended thanks to tactful movements of the police and of course_' – I love how they say 'of course' – _'Nightbird and Chameleon'_.'

'_Blonde_ Chameleon,' Sam groaned, ripping the newspaper from Blaine's hand to glare down at the printed words, 'They keep missing out the blonde part.'

Blaine snorted and turned his attention to making himself a morning cup of coffee. 'Remind me again why it's so important they refer to you as the _Blonde Chameleon_?'

His roommate pouted and gave a loud sigh as if it had been something they had discussed so many times before. 'Because, dude, girls prefer blondes! I want to be a heartthrob and I won't reach that solid status if they keep getting my name wrong!'

As the paper was thrust onto the counter, Blaine laughed and shook his head slowly as he stirred some milk into his cup. He glanced up at the newspaper again and his smile faltered to a look of seriousness. 'Ah, shit. Looks like yet another small bank was broken into. By the same guy as the others were.' Sam followed his gaze to the story on page four: _Bank Targeted by Shadow Boy_. It was the most recent act of theft committed by a guy, whose dark appearance and silent movements on CCTV footage were likened to that of a shadow, responsible for taking odd amounts of money from each heist. Blaine had caught a local news story about it days earlier in which the reporter commented that the thief opted to only take a fraction of the money stored in each safe or vault, similar modest amounts in nature, and that bank managers were surprisingly frustrated by the strange resistance. 'It bothers me so much,' Blaine hummed, eyes narrowing on the fuzzy security photo printed under the article of the 'Shadow Boy' making his escape the previous night. 'People's hard-earned money just snatched away by some self-entitled asshole.'

Sam leaned his chin on Blaine's shoulder and grinned at him, amused. 'So, have we found ourselves a new project?'

His question brought a smile to Blaine's lips. 'Yes. I think we have.'

Though proud of his nightly persona, Blaine was equally as satisfied with his day to day identity. The son of medical tycoon and hospital chief Warren Anderson, Blaine was a certified doctor and one of the youngest to ever qualify in the state. He was in the process of being steered and mentored by his father to take over the running of one of the city's main hospitals once he finished his residency training and when Warren saw fit to retire. Though having always considered becoming a doctor, the mass of privileges, responsibilities and expectations had not factored into his growing up; that had been on the shoulders of his older brother, Cooper, until he dropped out of medical school and respectfully requested to simply be a hospital advisor. Then, Warren Anderson's eyes turned to his younger son.

Blaine's father was definitely a good man and he had accumulated a great deal of admiration from Blaine himself, but as the training progressed and Warren had to explain his decisions Blaine realised that a lifetime of wealth had led to his father being out of touch with those in his care. Dr Anderson would pity those who were unable to afford life-saving treatment but saw it as an unavoidable fact of life for those living in the country. The rare times he berated Blaine were always brought on by his view that his son was 'too soft', an 'idealist' and someone who had to learn he could not help everyone. This was something Blaine struggled to accept and throughout his life he strived to prove him wrong. Sam had been a very personal example of his struggle.

Blaine had met his future best friend in second grade. He learned that the other boy did not live with his dad; in fact, Sam told him he did not know where his dad was. Blaine remembered telling his mother about that fact on the way home from school that day having been so shocked by the situation. Living only with his mom and younger brother and sister, Sam never seemed to have any new clothes or toys to play with, and Blaine always felt rather embarrassed by his belongings when Sam came over to play at his house. Then one morning, social services came to the Evans family's front door. Blaine had been inconsolable when his mother tried to explain that Sam's mom, as hard as she tried, could not afford to house and feed her three children and this meant Sam would be moving away to live with his grandmother out west until she could. Blaine was far too young to understand the realities of the situation Sam was facing, but he did understand that his mother's actions made her a saint. Upon hearing that Sam's move west would split him up from his siblings, who were remaining in Fawkesbridge near their mom, Mrs Anderson insisted he move into their own home on a 'temporary' basis. It was at that point Sam was unofficially adopted and Blaine gained a new brother. Mrs Evans was then able to find a smaller, cheaper place nearby where she and her youngest children could live, whilst still maintaining regular contact with her eldest.

The 'temporary' fix was never amended and - before Warren Anderson could fathom how it happened - Sam became a permanent fixture in their home and a solid member of the family until he and Blaine decided to move out on their own together at eighteen to attend college downtown. Whenever his father tried to instil 'the hard, unfair facts of life' into his son, Blaine would think back to the time his mother stepped in to help a family in need and he had not once lost faith.

When his best friend went on to study medicine, which came as no real surprise, Sam finally found his footing as a very gifted fitness instructor due to his infectious enthusiasm, teaching warmth and love of exercise. He insisted on training Blaine, eager to at last be more knowledgeable than his more bookish roommate, but rarely recalled any of Blaine's lessons, which he considered 'too complicated' to be of any use.

But the journey from college students to crime-fighting men of the night? That all started on evening not long after moving out of the family home. Whilst savouring the freedom of being able to stroll home at any hour without reprimand, they were alarmed to come across a woman being robbed by a hooded man. Running off with her handbag, the robber soon became aware of Blaine and Sam following quickly behind. He had darted into a side street and called for a few of his low-life cronies to help take care of them. Surrounded by four sniggering men vying to cut their lives short, neither had felt more terrified in their lives. Blaine attributed this fight-or-flight adrenaline rush as the reason behind the miraculous beating they were able to deliver to each one of the attackers. Admittedly, Sam's greater strength was more advantageous than Blaine's quick-as-a-rabbit dives but before they knew how it had been done they found the men in a pile at their feet. As they returned the handbag to the scared woman, she revealed she had called the cops and wanted them to stick around until they arrived. However, already imagining how it would look to have the Anderson heir mixed up in it all, Blaine convinced Sam to leave with him and be unsung heroes for the night.

Though they did not make the front covers of newspapers that first time, they were both taken aback at the praise their actions collected and every journalist begged them to come forward for special recognition for helping put such thugs behind bars. Resisting Sam's puppy dog eyes which was desperate for the promised honour of coming forward, Blaine kept their heroics private. Later, though, Sam recounted how great it had felt helping someone in need and the peace of mind knowing they made the streets that little bit safer. He then suggested they do it again. Finding the idea beyond ridiculous – who goes out looking for dangerous people to fight? – Blaine refused. It was only then that Sam uttered the words that would change it all. _'Batman, dude.'_ Appealing to Blaine's childhood love for comic book superheroes was a dirty trick in hindsight, but he fought his point across well.

'_We got lucky that night, Sam! What if they had been armed or something?'_

'_Blaine, man, we kicked ass, luck had nothing to do with it! Alright, alright, I get what you're saying but – come on – we can totally train ourselves up. Batman, dude. He's just this regular guy but then he just jumps in and Jackie Chans the shit out of everyone. There's two of us, man, it's like Batman 2.0!'_

Ever since, Blaine questioned how he ever let a negotiator like Sam Evans convince him to do what they do. He also wasn't fully able to understand how they had gone from wearing ski masks and sweatpants to the full-on leather body suits they do now. All he did know was that the city that he loved adored him back, and had even concocted fond codenames for them in the media.

_Nightbird and Chameleon: our lives have purpose._

* * *

A.N. Hopefully this was a nice little background intro chapter, of course we'll meet Kurt in the next chapter and we'll see the love-at-first-sight effect take place. Show your support by leaving a review!


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. My 'One Story In A Month' challenge faltered slightly when I didn't upload this fast enough. There's 6 chapters in all and that means adding one every five days but with the ending of 'The Rebound Arrangement' and the fleshing out of 'Funny Games', I've already fallen behind. My solution is to compile the admittedly short pieces so instead of 6, I'll have 4 chapters. Not sure how I'll work it but tonight I've merged the second and third to make the challenge achievable. That's good news for those who have me on author alert but have no interest in reading this story! Less pesky alerts for you ha!

So many nerves with this fic, which is strange because I thought it would be an easy upload considering it's pretty much all written, but I don't want to give you guys the impression this story is cooler than it really is. There's not much 'action', there's not many crazy fighting scenes, and now I'm so worried people will be disappointed! My plan backfired. Essentially, this is a prequel to a meatier story which has a proper, full-on villain who does some evil things to the heroes but this is the necessary backstory and set-up. So...I've not handled this well.

I already described the costumes of Sam and Blaine in the last chapter but I didn't really go into much detail even though I have a pretty clear image in my head what they look like when they are their alter egos. For 'The Shadow', however, I can give you this titbit: he's essentially wearing a skin-tight, all-black ensemble resembling The Pied Piper from _The Flash_, just without the cape. Mask, hood, and so on. I felt like he had more to hide than the heroes ergo the added disguise.

Replies:

Guest: I'm sorry, _Batman Seeking Robin_ will be uploaded eventually and I get why you first thought this fic was it. I've written four chapters for _Batman Seeking Robin_ and I love writing Kurt as a bitchy sub who tears Blaine a new A-hole in the second chapter but until I have a proper ending to it I don't want to start uploading. There's a good chance it'll be my next on-the-side story, like this one is, after this fic is finished at the end of the month. Sorry again!

Guest: Klaine is endgame, I'm afraid. Unless Sebastian is around (cough-sequel-cough) then Klaine will always be endgame in my romance fics. I hope there's enough Blam to keep you reading haha!

Guest: Yes! More dark!Blaine is on the way (Funny Games III will start very, very soon, another few ficlets have been plotted out, and a couple of new ideas will take form) so I hope you enjoy them, and thanks for reading this!

Guest: Gah! You ask if I can make it like Kick-Ass (with Kurt like Hit-Girl) but I'm afraid I've never seen that movie! :O I don't think I can change it to make it more like it but if I can I will try. 

* * *

Chapter Two 

* * *

'How can you be positive that he'll be here tonight?' Sam murmured from his crouched position in an office block doorway. They had been lying in wait for less than five minutes by then and already his legs itched to move; he wanted action.

Beside him, Blaine kept his eyes intently on the building on the other side of the street. It was a small-time bank: limited security, no guard, and no doubt questionable modes of protection for the money inside. The only people who tended to use such societies were the elderly whose idea of a local, family-feel bank made more sense than a large, confusing-therefore-intimidating one. Blaine's frown deepened just thinking of the possible repercussions such customers may receive if money was stolen. Would they get all their savings? Would the company claim it as their own loss or the loss of the customer? He barely remembered to answer Sam's question. 'It's all down to algorithms. I looked at where he hit before now and from there I could develop his plan. Nothing is ever random.'

'But he wasn't at either of the places we staked out the last couple of nights-'

'Well, I didn't have the complete pattern then, Sam!' Blaine hissed, barely resisting the urge to pout. 'He'll be here.'

Sam was not convinced but his silence helped ease the tension. Another few minutes passed. It was a little after two AM and, aside from an occasional car passing or the odd cat strolling by, there was nothing going on and zero cause for suspicion. Conscious that Shadow, or Shadow Boy as he was referred to in the papers, normally struck before now, Blaine lost confidence in his predictions. He had been so certain after ruling out two other patterns which left him with the one they were investigating tonight. If the thief did not appear then Blaine would be at a loss as to how to catch him. Perhaps some things _were_ random?

However, his self-doubt was all for nothing. Moments before Sam was due to open his mouth to complain of sore ankles, a light flickered from inside the bank. The Shadow was already in. 'Up there!' Sam cried, pointing to the tiny window the flash of light had been seen coming from. He and Blaine took off across the street. Deducing that the break in must have occurred round the back, they circled the building until they came to a similar small, barred window with the bars sawn off and a circular hole cut out from the glass barely big enough for a person to climb through. Sam could be heard casting doubt on himself wriggling through such a small space but Blaine was far too focused using the nearby dumpster to step up closer to the frame to listen to him. A click of a flashlight later and Blaine was spying through the hole: it seemed to lead into a storeroom. With Sam right behind him, he carefully climbed inside and managed to avoid knocking anything over in the process. Wherever Shadow was, they did not want to alert him to the fact he now had company.

Earlier that day, after coming to the conclusion that it would be this bank attacked next, Blaine had strolled inside to map out the place. So it was with little surprise when he opened the storeroom door and found himself in the back corner of the foyer. He motioned to Sam to follow as they silently made their way across the open floor and behind the long row of cashier desks. The main safe was somewhere behind there. Through the frosted glass that acted as a separator between the public and staff areas, they saw another few flickers of light; it seemed the Shadow was using some type of blowtorch against the metal safe. Blaine and Sam flanked the outside of the door and prepared to bust in. The deep thud of a chunk of metal hitting the floor alerted them to the fact the safe had been breached. Motioning for Sam to knock the door open so that he could race in to disarm the felon, Blaine quietly got into a runners stance. Sam nodded eagerly in agreement before he too also shuffled into position – only to unintentionally nudge a nearby filing cabinet, causing an upright folder on it to topple to the floor. In any other place, the sound of a simple folder falling over would have been close to nothing. But, in the deathly silence of the bank, the folder hit the ground like a bomb going off and Blaine could almost feel the vibrations running up the walls as he desperately questioned what they should do. It was obvious: they had most likely given away the element of utter surprise, but they could still catch the thief off guard before he knew what was going on. 'Go!' He shouted at a very guilt-ridden Sam. The blonde wasted no time: he busted open the door and Blaine ran like a shot inside.

And he ran into a thick mass of cloud.

_A smoke bomb!_ Careful to hold his breath and cover the lower half of his face, Blaine steeled himself. It appeared that even as little as a two second warning was enough time for the Shadow to act. As Blaine stumbled blindly towards what he thought was the safe, he caught sight of a darkened blur, an outline of a person, darting past him. Somewhere off to the right Sam was coughing hard. The Blonde Chameleon had continued breathing when he entered and was paying the price now. The sounds of doors opening and closing were like the beacons of a lighthouse, giving Blaine all he needed to fumble back towards the door leading to the foyer. The smoke was thinner and the air breathable so Blaine swallowed down some fresher oxygen as soon as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the dark figure disappear through to the storeroom: The Shadow was making his escape.

Torn over chasing him and helping his friend, Blaine growled in frustration. He then turned back towards the safe room and brought out his flashlight. He could hear Sam cursing in anger through coughs. The smoke did not seem poisonous and it seemed to be thinning on its own, but searching for his comrade would take too long. '_Chameleon!_' Blaine yelled into the room as he shone in the light from his torch. 'I'm putting the light on the floor; come towards it and follow me out!' Placing the flashlight on the ground where the air was clean, Blaine was ready to do some chasing. He raced across the hall and into the storeroom. There was no need for subtly now so he charged up to the window and hurled himself through the hole, resulting in his landing in an unceremonious heap in the back street. At once, he got to his feet. The Shadow was turning a corner down an alley leading to Kings Gate Drive, a heavy-looking bag on his back weighing him down. Realising he finally had the upper hand in terms of speed; Blaine gave pursuit and darted into the alley right behind him.

The Shadow heard his running footsteps and whipped round in alarm to face him. Blaine almost tackled him without restraint but found his breath, and determination, left him the moment he had the thief standing right in front of him. In later days, Blaine would question what exactly it was that caused him to be completely transfixed and memorised by one person. As a hot-blooded, gay male, there was every chance it was due to the perfect body of the man before him. From his small sneakered feet, travelling up his slender yet toned legs to his tight-fitting long-sleeved, hooded shirt and gloved hands, the thief was dressed from head to toe in black. His hood was up and did well to conceal his hair and areas of his face that wasn't already covered by his eye mask. His outfit quietly bragged of a staggeringly beautiful frame underneath; slim and lithe like a cat ready to pounce. It was entirely possible that it was this unexpected view that caught Blaine off guard. Then again, his face... Blaine had never seen cherry-red lips so full, and his skin glowed as the moon on a black night. And his eyes, as if crystaised, sparkled many shades of light blue making it almost plausible they were made from diamonds. Blaine's mind became blank as blood rushed in a more _southerly_ direction.

And for several seconds, all they did was stare.

The Shadow's rapid breathing slowed and his raised shoulders gradually fell once he realised Blaine was not planning on attacking. Moving slowly, he lowered his bag – which Blaine could now see was a camper style backpack with a few stray notes of cash poking out along with the tip of a blowtorch and some rope – and took a tentative step forward. Blaine's heart pounded. How was it possible to become even more beautiful in just one step? The corner of the Shadow's mouth tilted up to form a shy smile. Beyond reason or logic, Blaine found himself mirroring the gesture; his eyes coaxing him even closer. The man in black complied. He stepped into Blaine's personal space, entirely invited, and seemed to be just as taken with him. Blaine's eyes dropped to his mouth and he instinctively licked his lips. The well-defined ass he had been unknowingly admiring moments earlier was now mere inches from his hands. _Why was I chasing him again?_ He couldn't quite remember what miracle reason he had for being alone in a secluded alleyway with the most tantalisingly sexy being he'd ever seen.

Shadow raised his gloved hand and gently caressed Blaine's exposed cheek. One long, slender finger continued down to his jaw-line, softly easing his lips towards his own. Blaine's mind grew fuzzy and his eyes closed without his knowing it. It was then the Shadow smirked, bringing his knee up between Blaine's legs to deliver a crushing blow to his groin. Blaine's eyes flew open in stunned agony and all the air in his chest seemed to be zapped out from within him. Legs pressing together tightly, he fell to his knees with a strained groan before doubling over onto the ground. The pain shot straight through and his hands clutched at himself as if expecting another hit. Through it all, he was vaguely aware of lazy fingers in his hair petting at his head as if he were some type of animal. An amused laugh greeted his ears and he felt the sudden powerful urge to lunge at the man who did this too him yet all he could do was roll forward and try to get his breath back. The hand left his head after briefly toying with his mask, and when Blaine summoned the energy to look up he was not surprised to find himself alone in the alley. The Shadow was gone.

Not a minute later, the pounding of Sam's footsteps came from behind. 'Dude!' He called, partly panicked at seeing his friend on the ground. 'Dude, are you okay?' He helped him up onto his feet and stared questioningly at his body as if looking for some sign of injury.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' Blaine moaned out, his knees still buckling inwards. 'We should get out of here.' 

* * *

'Six-fifty...Seven...Eight...Eight-fifty,' Kurt counted the last of the bank notes and then gave out a long sigh of tired frustration. He knew he hadn't pulled the haul he needed the night before, but he was almost a grand short of his target. Three and a half thousand from each bank on each scheduled night – that was the plan he made which would see him through to his goal. He glanced at the calendar pinned between his bed and his desk and his heart fell. He had twenty-four days to get the money and, thanks to the not-so-welcome interruption by the Chameleon and Nightbird, he would need to fit in an additional night to make up for his losses. Simply taking more on his next robbery was out of the question: he took the maximum amount he could, any more and the banks could (and would) abuse their customer clause to recover damages from the accounts they were in charge of protecting. He took only three and a half thousand because any more than that meant innocent people would be affected, and Kurt would not cause that. He was desperate but not without at least some code of conduct.

It wasn't as if stealing had been his first option: it was a last resort. He and his father had applied to every additional funding society in the city, and even some national support too, but they never stood a chance. There were so many families in the same position they were in; they were nothing special. A widowed father suffering from cancer was not a new thing.

_Knock-Knock_

'Kurt?' The twenty year old berated himself for not hearing his dad approaching his bedroom door, but thanked whatever higher being, if there was one in this disgusting world they lived in, that Burt Hummel was not the kind to barge in uninvited. 'Can I come in, son?'

'Just give me a second,' Kurt tried to sound as casual as possible as he stuffed the small towers of cash back into his bag, kicked the bag out of sight under his bed, and slid his notebook filled with his plans into the secret drawer beneath his desk. As he called his dad to enter, he half-removed his t shirt to make it look like he had been dressing himself when Burt stepped through the door. 'Hey, dad. What's going on?' He asked, offering a smile. His smile then faltered upon noticing the paleness of his father's skin and the dark circles surrounding his tired eyes. He looked so frail for a man in his early forties. This was why they _needed_ the money: the cancer was still in the early, more easily treatable stages, but time was running out. Even if they had saved every cent from the moment he was diagnosed they would not have enough to afford the medication and therapy before the cancer reached the next stage. There was no way around it. 'You don't look so well. Do you want me to call Dr Wogan?'

Burt waved his hand for his son to settle, shaking his head as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. 'Nah, I'm just a little run down today. Looking forward to a good night's sleep and then I'll be right as rain.' Kurt was not convinced but he did not argue. His concern grew, though, when he saw the seriousness behind Burt's eyes. 'I got a letter from your college today.' _Uh-oh..._ 'From a William Schuester. He's your director of studies, right?' There was no need to respond; Burt knew very well it was the same Mr Schuester Kurt had been filled with admiration for back when he first entered college. It was he who took a special interest in Kurt and gave him additional training in musical theatre in his first year. 'He tells me he's concerned about you.' Burt's eyes narrowed on his son, his mouth a firm line of disapproval. 'Your attendance this semester, he says, is remarkably poor-'

'I've only missed a few classes!' Kurt cut in feverishly, his voice going higher than normal and therefore betraying his lack of truthfulness.

'He says teachers only remember seeing you a handful of times in the last couple of months, Kurt, that's more than 'a few'!' Burt wasn't one to raise his voice and with his state of health he had real reason not to, so when he tried to talk over Kurt's insisting pleas it caused him to give a series of breathless coughs. Kurt stared, guilty. When he had recovered, Burt shook his head and spoke softer. 'Listen, kiddo, it's not what you think. Your school is actually sympathetic to our...' He hesitated, 'personal circumstances. Schuester knows I have cancer. He went to the school board and explained the situation and they all agreed to offer you a deferment. That means you get to restart the semester in the next school year.'

'I don't want to.' Kurt shook his head defiantly, 'I'm passing my classes just fine-'

'I don't want you to just '_pass'_ your classes, Kurt, I want you to blow the other kids in your year out the water!' Burt interrupted firmly, reaching over to take the boy's hand, 'You have the ability and the willpower to be top of every class you take, and a deferment gives you the better part of a year to prepare yourself for it.' Kurt bit his lip; it was hard not to get tearful and choked up when his ailing dad displayed so much belief in him, belief he wasn't in any way confident of himself. There was a period of silence as Kurt looked down at his carpet. 'I know you've been taking up some type of job, or jobs.' That brought Kurt's eyes snapping back up in alarm. 'I don't know why you haven't told me about it. Actually, that's not true: I know why you haven't. You know I don't want you to be working while you're at school. But, bud, I get it. I understand that with all the talk of medical expenses and the rejection notices from funding offices you might have felt it was somehow on you to get some extra money. But it is _not_ your responsibility, Kurt. It's mine, and I'm working on a few avenues. Your one and only responsibility is to make sure you get the damn good education you deserve. So, I'm coming to you with a choice.' From his back pocket, Burt pulled out the letter he spoke of earlier and his tired eyes stared straight into Kurt's. 'Go to class and ace the year, or take up the offer of deferment if you're going to insist on working.' That wasn't the choice Kurt expected – he was shocked to know he even had a choice – so he remained silent. Burt continued 'I know I can't force you to stop whatever work you can pick up around town, so I'm relying on you meeting me in the middle and being honest with me.'

Kurt swallowed hard. He held off a few seconds before reaching out to take the letter. Mr Schuester was only doing what he thought was best for him, he knew that, but he really hadn't wanted his dad to find out about his cutting corners. Unlike Burt, Kurt was happy to simply pass his exams without extra credit. He didn't want his dad to know that the cancer was the reason things like college just didn't matter anymore, because he knew his father would wrongly blame himself. Mr Schue didn't know so Kurt was determined not to stay mad at him for it. Against his own wishes, Kurt nodded. 'I'll call up school in the morning to formally request the deferment, dad.'

The satisfied smile that spread across Burt's face almost made the compromise worth it. 'Good. I'm glad.' He sighed and hit his lap before standing up. 'It's getting late, I'm going to get that good night's sleep I've been dreaming about all day. Maybe tomorrow we can talk part-time work. I need someone to be my eyes and ears back at the car shop, anyway.'

'Goodnight dad,' Kurt tried to grin as his father closed the bedroom door behind him, but inside he felt miserable. His life was crumbling around him all because of money, time and sickness. He barely saw friends anymore, either, because who wants to spend time with someone who had nothing positive in his life?

Well, that hadn't been entirely true... Through his pained and broken spirit, he smiled as he recalled one good thing to come from the robbery interruption the night before: Nightbird was going to let him kiss him. _The_ Nightbird, the mysterious and handsome man of the night, seemed more than taken by him.

Kurt allowed himself to be lost in all the schoolboy fantasies that swept across his mind as he went to bed that evening. 

* * *

Union Street was one of the lesser-known areas of Fawkesbridge's industrial district. Tucked between warehouses, the local bank was generally only used by long-term factory workers on the way to the bar after clocking out on pay day. It was a dinky building, small and tightly compact so that it appeared to be nothing more than a brick shed. However, on that Wednesday evening, it was the Shadow's next target.

Sam had not questioned Blaine's prediction this time: they (as in Blaine) had been trying for over a week to decipher the new system the Shadow was following in choosing his hits. As expected, the Shadow was smart enough to shake things up after being cornered once before. However, Blaine was no idiot, and it took him less time than five days to recognise the new pattern. Sam's only real contribution was suggesting that instead of trying to follow him into the back, they could lie in wait for the thief's exit. By letting him believe he was on his own and leading him into a false sense of security, he would be at his most vulnerable making his escape with the money and then both Chameleon and Nightbird would strike.

And that is what they were moments off doing. Minutes earlier, they had watched the shadowy figure silently take out a barred window much in the same manner they had witnessed before. He disappeared inside, giving the suit-clad heroes the opportunity to slip through the nearby gate and tuck themselves in darkened corners by the window. Sam was biting his lips and his eyes were wide and alert: he was eager to finally see what the guy looked like after hearing Blaine's description of him. It took a great deal of explaining before Sam finally understood that 'moved like a cat' did not mean they were chasing after a half-man, half-feline, yet Blaine suspected Sam still held out some hope it was true. Blaine had also, after a lot of persuasion, conceded in telling Sam exactly what Shadow had done to disable him in the alley. After the laughter had died down, his partner admitted it was a pretty dirty trick for one guy to play on another. _'He must have moved quick to get you in the nads, man. I mean, if you didn't even have a second to defend yourself, he must be, like, lightning fast.'_ Blaine had nodded along but held his tongue: Sam did not need to know that Blaine had been more than willing to have that incredible body close to his. In fact, Blaine practically invited him in.

Since that night, Blaine's day dreams had been dominated by those sparkling blue eyes and smiling lips. Without meaning to, he would recall the body heat and the sleek, defined frame that just demanded to be held in his arms. _Fuck, even his laugh rings in my ears!_ Blaine wanted to be angry, he _wanted_ to replace all thoughts of him with hateful vengeance notions - but he couldn't accomplish it. It shocked him to the core to realise that the painful and humiliating knee to his groin had actually seemed sensually teasing. Well...once the agonising stars in his visions faded, anyway. Honestly, it felt like his heart was in his throat; he was so excited to come face to face with the Shadow Boy again. It was a desire he couldn't quite explain.

Sam was motioning wildly from his hiding spot. Blaine glanced up towards the window and saw that their time had come: the Shadow was coming out. They remained out of sight as the thief took a few moments to scout the street for people. He then tossed out his bag which landed mere feet from Sam. With the whispers of shuffling, the young man leapt from the window and hit the ground with a neat roll to ease the landing blow. In an instant, his stalkers grabbed hold of him.

Blaine took hold of him from behind, scooping his arms around his shoulders. Sam made for his feet and for one glorious moment he grinned at thinking they had captured their target. He grinned too soon. Shadow uttered nothing more than a growl before aiming a firm kick into Sam's chest. As Sam tumbled backwards, the force of the kick enabled the slender villain to urge Blaine back causing them both to trip on themselves. Blaine fell on the ground and lost grip on him. Shadow got to his feet fast and, instead making a run for it, charged at Sam. Sam caught him in surprise, and they hit the brick wall behind him. It seemed like such a futile move; as flexible and as agile as he was, how could the Shadow expect to take on the muscle mass of the Chameleon? It was a question Sam was awkwardly asking himself feeling hands on him but not any pain. He then heard a metal-on-metal click. His eyes darted downwards, accidently letting the man slip out of his grasp. He tried to step after him but found that something held him to the wall. He whipped from side to side, 'What the _hell?_' He cried out to Blaine, but his friend watched on just as confused. A long dragging noise alerted him to a pipe running up the length of the building he was next to. Hooked around it was a thick metal buckle. The buckle was also looped around Sam's belt, fastened securely . '_Shit!'_ he bellowed in anger. He looked up accusingly at the man dressed all in black who did this to him, and the man merely smirked as he backed away. The belt was part of his suit, very much merged into the fabric covering his whole body, so it was an obvious entrapment: Sam could only get himself free by taking off the suit. Upon realising this, Blaine clenched his jaw. 'Blaine, go after him, man!' Sam was shouting at him desperately, bringing him out of his stupor to realise that their would-be captive was making a getaway attempt with his backpack of stolen cash clutched firmly in his hand.

Blaine took off down the street and chased the darkened figure past nearly half a dozen warehouses before he spotted him diving into one that's door was left slightly ajar. When Blaine entered he was met with darkness. _This guy can move around as silently as a real shadow, I need to be able to see!_ Keeping by the large door, he blindly searched the walls for some form of switch. Eventually he felt some thick wires which ran along to a circuit board with, thankfully, only one switch. He flicked it. A humming noise from above preceded sudden bursts of light from high up above: he found himself standing at the entrance of one giant room of about a hundred yards length and breadth. It was like he was standing on a sports field! The warehouse was lined with giant cargo containers that climbed the high reaches of the walls, leaving the majority of the centre floor space clear. Standing almost halfway across the floor, looking just as lost as Blaine had been, was the Shadow. For another brief moment, success teased Blaine's mind when he realised that he blocked the only viable exit. His seductive target would have to get past him if he wanted to escape, and with Sam only temporarily stalled, he did not have a lot of time to act on. But things were never as simple as they first seemed. At the furthest end of the room, at the very top of the wall and connected to the ceiling, was a large open window. Cargo containers piled on top of one another seemed to have been placed there specifically to act as levelling blocks up to a slither of the window frame, and pure hate for whatever industrial worker was responsible pulsed through Blaine's veins. He recalled seeing rope in the Shadow's backpack the week before so it wouldn't take a genius to map out how he could survive the drop down to the ground. As the Shadow too caught sight of the window and mentally worked through to the same conclusion, Blaine began running towards him. _I can't lose him now, not this time-! I need to get him, I need to touch him again and-_ The doctor might not have been able to think straight, but he could certainly try to run straight.

Shadow reached the lowest container in seconds, tossing up his bag before scrambling up himself. Blaine missed him by inches. He did, however, have a mere second to admire his perfectly toned ass before it disappeared. He chased after it. By the time he had, Shadow was already on the next level up. Between himself and Sam, Blaine was by far the faster and more nimble of the two, but even with no added weight slowing him down he could just not close the distance between himself and the backpack-ridden man in black. When he finally accepted this fact, Blaine paused in his chase and just watched the mesmerising sight of the strong but slender limbs sliding up against the cold, hard metal blocks. Every time Shadow pulled himself up, he gave Blaine a perfect view of his ass thrust high in the air. His tight jeans left nothing to the imagination and Blaine just wanted to test first-hand how flexible that hot body really was.

As though finally noticing he was no longer being pursued, the Shadow paused two cargo containers up and turned back to face him. His chest was rising and falling fast from all the activity and his lips were parted to take in deep, stabilising breaths as he watched Blaine smile. Those big blue eyes were soon filled with suspicion. And yet...he didn't continue running. It then occurred to Blaine that perhaps it wasn't just a one-sided fascination. 'Come on,' Blaine raised his arms in a conceding motion, his tone was playful and uncharacteristically low 'we both know you're going to get away here. Just...indulge me a little. Like you did before.'

Even with a mask covering the upper half of his face, the blush was more than apparent underneath the Shadow's hood. He remained standing there, considering Blaine with shy interest when the dark-haired man gradually lifted himself up to the next level, one down from his. Blaine then stopped to show he was not trying to trick him. The Shadow then picked up his backpack and threw it up to the next container, causing Blaine to think he was going to leave him there after all, but then he returned to the very edge of his footing. He knelt down and Blaine stepped closer. If Blaine had wanted to, he could have reached for the man's ankles to yank him down but he did not. Something told him to wait. _If I don't scare him off, he'll come to me..._ It was a foolish and illogical notion but he went with his gut. The Shadow seemed aware that the chance to grab him had not been taken, and he smiled. His hand reached down and his fingers danced around through Blaine's hair, and it sent shocks of hot goodness down his centre right to his cock. A small laugh left the Shadow, as if sensing the reaction he had just caused, and he stepped back. The movement made it clear he was allowing Blaine to climb to his container.

Their gazes never parting even for a moment, Blaine muscled up. His feet slid against the sleek metal feebly and he forced all his upper body strength to propel him up fast. He couldn't afford to look anything less than attractively strong in front of the man giving him this opportunity to impress. His arms did not fail him; he soon found one foot on the edge and he almost managed to stand up next to him – but then his second foot missed the ledge. The Shadow's widening eyes were the last things Blaine noticed before his brain went into brief panic mode as he felt himself falling back. _Shit, I might die. I'm going to hit the metal box below and be dead on impact. I might bleed out. I might have to go through hours of dying before I actually go. This was not how I pictured this ending..._

The notion of falling back was suddenly snatched away and replaced with the confusing sensation of falling forward. Something was grabbing his collar and yanking him away from the ledge. Before Blaine knew what was happening, he found himself hitting the top of the container he had been climbing onto. And the hot, tensed up body of the Shadow was pressed into him from above. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tight. The man in black, the person he had been chasing for his crimes, had saved him. He hadn't needed to, but he did. And now he was lying on him, their legs entangled and their faces mere inches from one another. Blaine didn't move. The Shadow tried to wrestle himself away but the arms around his waist didn't let him move far. Instead, the friction between them only served to intensify the growing sexual heat. They both felt it. The Shadow was looking down at him with the same hungry stare Blaine was surely giving too. This was it: Blaine had him in his grasp, after imagining it all week. It felt so much more electrifying than he could have ever suspected. The only difference was Blaine found he couldn't care less about the crimes that started it all, but was solely focused on how on fire he felt deep in his loins at having the man's frame stretching out across his own.

When the struggling stopped, Blaine drew back one arm so he could reach up between them for the black mask covering the beauty's face. The Shadow caught his wrist before anything could be removed. He shook his head slowly as he murmured quietly 'Nothing will be revealed this time, _Nightbird_.'

_That voice... So rich, quietly confident and oh-so-seductive..._

Blaine broke out into a cheeky grin and his eyes glanced down to those full, cherry-red lips. 'I chased you all this way... Don't I even get a kiss?'

It was almost laughable to see the big blue eyes grow even wider at such a request, as if it were still surprising that Blaine was flirting with him. But the shock soon melted into a knowing smirk. _God, when his lips do that I want to do bad, bad things to that mouth..._

Taking his sweet time, the Shadow braced himself upwards and then slowly rubbed his body down the length of Blaine's. When their hips came side-by-side, he paused and grinded into him which elicited a long and needy moan from the turned-on man who was pining upwards for him. He caught the man's lips and eagerly swallowed the last of his pleas for more. Blaine's insides ignited at the taste of the delicious stranger. The lips on his were as soft, smooth and full as he fantasised they were; he knew he could quite easily get drunk on them if he was permitted to. A gloved hand found his forehead and gently urged his head back onto the container beneath them, causing Blaine's mouth to open up wider to allow a deeper exploration of their tongues. The legs de-tangled and the slimmer male shifted to straddle the other's waist. In this new and exciting position, their hips drove inwards and the grinding of their groins brought both to a whole new world of restricted but tantalizing pleasure. Their hardened cocks strained against the tight confines of their clothes, which also seemed to have added layers since the temperature of the cold warehouse soured causing them to pant heatedly into one another. Blaine's hands reached back to grab onto the ass he had been unable to _not_ think about for days now. The man above him gave a small gasp and almost timidly rocked back to meet his hands.

_Please let me fuck you, I don't care what happens afterwards, just let me have-_

'Blaine?' Sam's call of panic seemed to echo off the walls of the nearby buildings. He was close to them, 'Dude, where are you?'

Somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind he was vaguely aware that Sam was not using his codename. In the same depth of his consciousness, Blaine was angered by that fact. Then again, the anger was more likely to be aimed Sam's call which caused the Shadow's lips to break from his. His head bobbed upwards in an attempt to continue the kiss but the hooded man was now sitting upright on his waist. Dazed, he blinked hard to try and clear his mind. The Shadow, however, took less time to recover and was already eyeing the warehouse door warily. In a movement so swift that Blaine missed it entirely, the thief pulled out a syringe that he had tucked in his left sneaker and broke the tip seal off. With one hand, he pressed Blaine's abdomen downwards and the other hand stabbed the needle deep into his loins.

Feeling a tiny prick of pain in the highly sensitive area, Blaine was thrown into alarm and he knew he had to fight his apparent foe off him. But it was too late; the Shadow had somehow managed to pull the needle out without it breaking and the attached liquid tube was empty. 'What...?' Blaine asked, unable to understand what he had just let happen.

For the first time in a long time, Blaine felt scared. Not even when he thought he was falling to his death minutes before did he feel this fear. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows but the hooded man shushed him softly and urged him back down. 'Don't worry, little bird, it's not dangerous.' With his middle three fingers, he sensually rubbed the area he had just used the injection on. 'It's just a very basic, run of the mill tranquilliser mix to make sure you stay put for a little while. Long enough for me to take off, anyway.' As the words sunk in, Blaine at last felt the effects of the drug hit him. His scrambling legs became flimsy and he couldn't force them up. The numbing sensation slinking up his middle also made itself known in the tips of his fingers. _What the hell was in that stuff for it to work so quickly?_ Blaine thought frantically. Though knowing it to be a futile fight, he tried shoving the man off him but the other's hands pinned him down easily and they held him there until Blaine could do nothing more than stare up at the ceiling rafters. Somehow, though unable to feel much else than his own panic, he knew those fingers had returned to the spot where the needle had punctured him. The Shadow was smiling down at his handiwork, clearly enjoying the still-noticeable affects he had caused in Blaine's nether regions. From the corner of his eye, Blaine could see the black sleeves of his arms twisting and urging up and down lazily. Closing his eyes, the dark haired hero tried not to think about what those hands were doing to his cock. It was such a bitter turn of events to know the very thing he had been so eager for was happening...and he couldn't even experience it. 'Do you feel that?' the Shadow asked innocently, as if enjoying the mental torture he was delivering. Blaine's eyes gave him his answer, and yet another laugh met his ears. 'That's a shame... I'm working really hard, too.' The taunting lips formed a fake pout as he shifted his body up a little so he could touch his prisoners face. 'To think...the identity of Fawkesbridge's very own Nightbird is literally at my fingertips.' His fingers delved under Blaine's mask and teased it loose. Blaine's heart pounded so hard it might have burst from his chest in desperation: his own stupidity had led to all of this. Sam's identity was in jeopardy too if Blaine's was discovered. How could he be such an idiot? Why did he think for a second he could let his guard down – was the grinding worth it? But the fingers stroking his cheekbones soon pulled away, and the Shadow leaned over him so Blaine could stare right up into his eyes. 'But I made a promise, didn't I? I said nothing would be revealed, not tonight.' He smiled. 'I keep my promises, little bird.'

With that, he dipped his head and stole one last kiss from Blaine's parted lips. Though the rest of his body was incapable of experiencing any form of touch, his bottom lip felt the unmistakable sensation of a tongue running across them. Stars were forming in his vision again from that alone.

Suddenly, the sound of the warehouse door bursting opened shocked Blaine back into reality. Sam. 'Dude!' Running footsteps. The room was spinning and all Blaine could do was close his eyes and listen. 

* * *

Sam caught sight of his friend lying on the roof of one of the cargo containers with the Shadow standing over him and he assumed the worst. His belt that had trapped him to the pipe was hanging in pieces by his hips from where he had managed to cut them apart but they ceased being a distraction when he raced to be by Blaine's side. He fired up the first, second and third container until he was at last on Blaine's level. The robber had already brought himself up to an open window and a rope was waiting to carry him safely down and out the warehouse. Sam didn't care; all he cared about was finding out why Blaine did not seem injured but wasn't moving. For the sake of his partner's own decency, Sam chose to ignore the fact there was a pretty intense hard-on taking place in Blaine's dark navy suit's crotch area. He glared up at the amused looking man in black who watched, already perched on the frame ledge. 'What the fuck did you do to him?' Sam demanded.

'Calm down, blondie,' The hooded man replied, bored. 'He's just sleeping. He'll be fine in an hour or so. You look strong enough to carry him home. No harm, no foul.' And with a wink, the Shadow slipped out of sight. 

* * *

Kurt was positively dancing when he turned up onto his street. The world seemed so bright and full of promise, even at three AM on a murky night like this one. He couldn't stop thinking about Nightbird – or 'Blaine', as his comrade had stupidly revealed when looking for him. Blaine. _Blaine_. God, even the name was sexy. He hadn't expected to have another run-in with the duo, and at first he truly thought his game was up when they jumped him right out the bank. He had been _terrified_. Both men were a hell of a lot stronger than he was, not to mention taller and broader. The Chameleon, especially. Fortunately neither were as resourceful as he was and disabling the blonde was a no-brainer. But Nightbird...Blaine...he was fast. And determined. And apparently wanted nothing more than Kurt himself. There were times when Blaine might have assumed he had the opportunity to catch him but he didn't try. He came after him because he wanted him, and Kurt had never experienced that before. To think that the first guy to ever look at him with that gaze was one of the most famous men of the city blew his mind.

But perhaps more admirable was Kurt. Though not exactly a pushover, Kurt was not exactly...brave. Except for when he was with Blaine. Something within him changed and he became more confident, more capable, and apparently a lot hornier. What was he even thinking when he began that wonderful yet brief grinding session? That was not the Kurt Hummel he thought himself to be, but he liked it. No, he _loved_ it.

Turning his key in the lock, Kurt reminded himself to be quiet: he had left a little after midnight to hit the bank and his dad had already headed off to bed by then. If luck was still with him, he'd be able to sneak back up to his room without anyone being the wiser. He tip-toed down the hall to the bottom of the stairs and happened to glance to the left into the kitchen. 'Dad? _Dad!'_ Kurt threw on the lights and dove towards the kitchen where his father lay on the floor, unconscious. As he jabbed in the numbers _9-1-1_ into his cell, Kurt felt nothing but hate for himself. Suddenly returning to the horrible world of 'Kurt Hummel', he began to cry. 

* * *

A.N. Please, please, please don't be mad if this fic isn't going the way you thought it would - as I said before, this all came to me in less than 5 minutes when I was half asleep and trying to Klaine myself away into dreamland. Leave a review or PM if you have a moment! More Sam? Can you guess what might happen in the next update if Burt is a medical emergency and Blaine happens to be a doctor? Did you like the Klaine interactions?


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. I did it again. I forgot about my 'one month' timeline and now I need to rush out the last two chapters before Thursday. Well, this is the second last one so I guess it's not as bad as it could be. Thank you again for the support and lovely words of encouragement in this lil fic project! I'm working on the third chapter of Funny Games but I've thought of nothing else for weeks so my head is a little fried and slow in terms of what I want to happen in each chapter. Expect it sometime in early May and rest assured I'm just as eager to upload as ever, I just want to get it right.

Replies:

Guest: I'm glad it's a little bit like Kickass! I will watch it, I promise. I remember the trailer from a few years ago and I thought then it looked like a good movie. As for violent!Kurt, he's not really violent here because he's on his own and if he were to try going up against Blaine or Sam he'd probably be beat bad. HOWEVER, in the sequel he takes on a different role that does mean he is a lot rougher and a lot more confident about taking people on. I'll explain more once I upload the last chapter, because then I think it'll be clear why things change.

Curious Reader: Since I've written a Kurtbastian fic already, I understand why you'd be apprehensive about Seb showing up in the sequel if you don't like him with Kurt or Blaine – I was against Kurtbastian at first and personally I still get creeped out with Seblaine for some reason so I get you! If it helps, it'll still be Klaine. Sebastian _does_ take a fancy to one of the boys but it isn't returned which sort-of causes the main drama of the fic as an angry Sebastian is a dangerous Sebastian. Hope that helps! 

* * *

Chapter 3 

* * *

His eyes felt heavy and ached like a bitch. Even when he closed them they seemed to pound on his lids for freedom. Kurt guessed that's what he gets for crying so much and having not slept for a day and a half. He swayed lightly like a mute zombie in the hospital chair next to his father's bedside. Burt was in the middle of devouring a mini plastic tub of jelly, making small talk over how he couldn't tell if it was strawberry flavoured or simply red due to food colouring. Kurt watched him eat, his mind vaguely putting up some silent argument over how he wished Burt had first eaten his steamed vegetables which still sat untouched on his tray instead of his dessert.

No one looking in on the scene would have known the utter horror and panic which occurred the night before. An ambulance had taken them straight to the hospital a little after four AM and it was not until eleven that someone came through to tell Kurt that his father was going to do just fine. His collapse, though serious and in need of stabilising, was not due to anything life-threatening but rather overexertion and a lack of iron in his blood levels. Though, at nearly six that evening, information regarding when Kurt could take his father home was non-existent.

'Kurt...Kurt, buddy, snap out of it.' Kurt jolted himself up at his father's request and he stared at him blankly. 'Before you ask for the billionth time, yes, I feel fine.' Burt gave a half smile. 'But could you grab me some water? The cold stuff from the nurses' station.' Kurt knew he was just giving him a distraction but he was too tired to argue so he simply nodded and left the room. It hurt when he swallowed too, he noticed. The urge to cry or throw up had not left him in the last fourteen hours since finding his dad on the kitchen floor, so he supposed he should get used to the sensation of a golf ball being lodged in his throat. He reached the water cooler by the main nursing desk on that floor and took a minute to steadily drink down three cups himself before filling up another for his dad.

On autopilot, Kurt returned to his dad's private room and found that in his absence his father had been commandeered by yet another doctor. Burt smiled and accepted the cup of water from him before introducing his son to the newcomer. 'Sorry, doc, I don't think you've met my kid. Kurt, this is Dr Anderson. He's the chief of medicine here; remember me telling you about him?' Out of politeness or sheer desire _not_ to be dragged into some long conversation, Kurt nodded and mustered up a smile.

Dr Anderson turned to face him, his eyes kindly resting appraisingly on his tired form. 'Ah, so this is the trooper – handsome lad you have here, Burt.' Kurt shuffled in awkwardness but at least appreciated the warming attempts to establish good relations. From a hospital chief, it was saying a lot. 'I'm just doing the rounds and I was informed your father had pretty bad episode, I just wanted to make sure he was getting everything he needed during what I _hope_ is a short stay.' He looked back to Burt, 'I know you hate being here. We don't have any of the good sporting channels.' Burt laughed and together they engaged in a little friendly chit-chat which finally allowed Kurt the chance to notice another newcomer to the room. A second doctor, it seemed, who had taken Burt's medical chart and had turned away to read it. 'Oh, look who it is,' Dr Anderson then chuckled, 'Burt, I don't think you've met _my_ son yet, have you? Blaine, come over here and meet my favourite patient.'

Blaine. Blaine?

Kurt had almost dozed off leaning against the wall but the sound of that name sent alarm bells off in his head. His face snapped up and his tired eyes searched the room wildly. They didn't have to search long. The second doctor turned around and gave Burt a warm and gracious 'Hello, Mr Hummel.' The world fell away around the twenty year old as he stared at the unmasked face of the man he had been climbing on top of the night before. There was no mistaking him: his hair was thick and jet black like the hair Kurt's fingers danced through on two separate occasions, and his honey-hazel eyes were not easily forgotten after Kurt stared into them so intently as he pressed into his leather-clad body. Only, this man was wearing scrubs underneath an unfastened white coat. This man was not a 'hero of the night', he was a saviour of lives in an entirely different manner, and more to the point he was someone who was only moments away from looking at Kurt himself and recognising him for the criminal he was. Cold sweat gathered on Kurt's temples and on the back of his neck.

'This,' Burt pointed in surprise, '_this_ is the Blaine Anderson you told me so much about? Geez, he's young!' He reached over and patted his shoulder, 'Good to finally meet you, kid. You've made your dad real proud, you know that?'

Blaine blushed a little and gave a cringing shrug. 'He's only proud of me part of the time. The rest of the time he's usually getting on at me for not remembering his and my mom's anniversary.'

Kurt listened to the chuckles and decided to make a break for it by hiding in the restrooms or something before anyone else tried to hook him into the conversa- 'Kurt, come over here and say hello.' All eyes turned to him.

Blaine's smile sat strong for several moments but then lessened as vague recognition flickered in his gaze. Kurt knew it. He was caught, and he was going to go to jail and all of his hard work and best intentions would mean nothing. 'Kurt... Kurt Hummel?' Blaine tilted his head and squinted his eyes. 'Yeah, I remember you.' This was not how Kurt pictured his secret coming out; Blaine's tone was not accusing. He stepped towards him and Kurt automatically stepped back. Unaware of the fact Kurt was trying to get _away_ from him, Blaine continued forward until he had very innocently separated them from their respective fathers. He grinned. It was nothing like the smiles he had given him as Nightbird – this one was openly friendly and childlike in nature. 'You applied for the Cedars Grant, right?'

_Cedars Grant? _It sounded familiar but Kurt couldn't remember why. Was it code for 'I know your secret!'? Then he recalled the extensive essay he wrote appealing for financial help from the Cedars Grant Association to help with his dad's hospital bills. Why would Blaine know about that? _Oh right, because he's a doctor and no doubt connected to projects relating to additional medical help..._ Kurt realised Blaine was expecting a reply and he found that his tongue would not move to speak. Even if Nightbird had not recognised his face, yet, then who was to say he wouldn't immediately place his voice? _Well you can't just say nothing – speak! J-just give one word answers and don't look directly at him because if you memorised his eyes he probably wouldn't find it hard to memorise yours._ 'Yeah, I did...' He averted his gaze to the floor, unwittingly appearing embarrassed about the admission.

Blaine reached forward and gently took hold of his shoulder. 'Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Treatment costs are beyond ridiculous and everyone needs help one way or another. Listen, I went through...' He bit his lip thoughtfully, 'nearly a thousand applications for that grant, with another couple hundred still waiting at my desk, but yours, Kurt- wow – I was so impressed.' Kurt tentatively looked up and found that Blaine seemed to be truthful. 'For someone as young as you to sound so mature and capable in such a complicated system... It blew me away. Your story touched me and the other people who are on the board agreed. You should be so proud of all the hard work you're doing for your dad.' The hand on his shoulder squeezed and Kurt couldn't believe that even in his state of anxious panic he felt ready to cry in appreciation. He hadn't been aware of it, but he had needed to hear those words. Blaine caught the emotion in his eyes and his gaze softened. 'I don't want to give you false hope, Kurt. In the end, I'm not the one making the decisions. I can only give my opinion over the applications I shortlist. Obviously I put yours forward but if it isn't one of the entries selected then just keep trying. Okay?' Kurt nodded because if he tried to say a simple 'yes' he might just let loose all the tears that had been building up for hours. Blaine looked like he wanted to hug him but, being the professional he was, he resisted. To think of how different things would have been if they were elsewhere, wearing slightly different clothes. Even just a mask. Suddenly, Blaine considered him with a strange new form of recognition. 'Kurt, have we...met before?'

The alarms ringing in his head hit new heights as he causally shrugged. 'No, I-I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting you, doctor.' He pulled out a tissue from his pocket and tactfully used it to cover up his face by dabbing his eyes and nose. Blaine simply nodded, his gaze cloudy.

'The hospital doesn't pay you to stand around, Blaine,' Dr Anderson chastised Blaine fondly, stepping in to move a clearly exhausted Kurt away from his sometimes oblivious son. He steered Kurt back to his dad's bedside. 'Let me and Dr Anderson-Junior get out of your way. Blaine's a little out of it today, anyway: he thinks he pulled a muscle yesterday and is still a little woozy from his pain medication. He won't even let me examine him, and I'm an experienced physician!'

Both Blaine and Kurt blushed red. Obviously Blaine was mortified at the thought, knowing the real reason why he wouldn't let his father examine him, but it baffled him to see the tragically beautiful Kurt Hummel looking just as embarrassed as he did. Fortunately for Kurt, Dr Anderson pulled his son away so they could complete their rounds. 

* * *

Hitting four banks in one week took it's tow on the now exhausted Kurt. A week after finding his father unconscious on the kitchen floor, Kurt was no closer to the tentative level of peace he had become accustomed to lately. His nerves were still shot; every cough, every minuscule sound put him on edge. Leaving Burt at home in order to keep up with his robbery quota still caused Kurt severe bouts of nausea, but it had to be done if he was to have enough to pay for his first round of treatment the following month. _The first round... What then, Kurt? Who pays for the second? There's only so many banks in this city; will there be enough to get your dad through it all? _Shaking his head, Kurt tried thinking about something else. If truth be told, getting out the house and onto the streets did help ease his stress in a weird way. Out of sight, out of mind. And there was something about pushing his body to its extremes which released a lot of inner tension. Maybe it wasn't necessary he rob from four places that week. Maybe it was just a form of distraction...

As Kurt approached the building – tonight's hit – he was fearless. He had shaken his plan up a little and had managed to avoid Blaine in his Nightbird form as a result. His confidence was proven to be misplaced. Entering the backstreet, hands already reaching into his bag for his tools, he was brought to a standstill.

Blaine stood up from his perch on a doorway step. Dressed in his tight leather suit, face masked but his frame relaxed, he smiled slightly as he watched Kurt come into view. The smile could almost be construed as a friendly greeting. But Kurt was in no position to entertain the idea of pleasantries. Something was wrong here. Swift glances around them gave no hint of the blonde body builder who generally accompanied the Nightbird and this only caused Kurt greater alarm for a potential attack from behind.

Blaine caught his darting gaze and shook his head. 'There's no one else here. I came alone.' From beneath his hood, Kurt cocked a sceptical eyebrow. Somehow his suspicions were read perfectly. 'I'm not going to try and catch you this time,' Blaine took a small step forward. 'We both know you're a little too quick for me, with a strong tendency to play dirty. I don't really have a shot; not with my track record.'

'You've never tried attacking me.' Kurt drawled, though wary. 'It's what you normally do to criminals, right? It's how you helped the police arrest the Bradley Brothers just last month and yet I don't recall you trying to pull that stuff on me at all. You've had opportunities.'

A slighter smile broke out on Blaine's lips. 'You know the last thing I want to do is hurt you.' He spoke quietly. 'My partner...well, he might have felt different, especially considering the state he found me in last time. So I asked him to stay at home tonight; I wanted to talk to you.' That was not the goal Kurt thought he had in mind. And it certainly was not something he himself had any interest in agreeing to. _Call me crazy, but I really can't be bothered with this cat-and-mouse game we usually play tonight. _Thoughts of finding his dad in a similar position as he had a week ago just gave him no appetite, even for spending more time with the deliciousness that was Dr Blaine 'The Nightbird' Anderson. Blaine seemed to sense his rejection for the 'offer', and took another step forward. 'I know there's more to your story than you let on. I keep thinking about you and how you do things, and, as hard as I try, I just _can't_ picture you as the simplistic greedy, evil thief character the press make you out to be. I want to know more about you.' He stared straight into Kurt's bewildered eyes. 'You can trust me.'

For a moment, Kurt was actually unable to react to such a declaration of faith. He wasn't sure what struck him more; the fact Blaine was trying to decipher his heart or that he had actually thought about him at all. But it made no difference. The words might have been well-intentioned and aiming to put Kurt at ease but in fact they did the opposite. Feeling an overwhelming sense of misplaced anger and bitterness along with a vague panic that some line was crossed, he disciplined his facial expression and turned to walk away. 'No thanks.'

As he expected, Blaine was quick to follow so Kurt picked up the pace to keep them at least a few feet apart. Somehow he knew Blaine wouldn't forcibly stop him. _How strange that I feel I can trust him. Pity that I really don't want to._ 'Wait – hold up,' Blaine sighed in frustration when his request was ignored.

Kurt took a right turn between two apartment blocks towards what appeared to be a dead end, but he knew better. He could hear Blaine's footsteps slowing, clearly believing he had him trapped between three brick walls. However, Kurt grew up being a natural city-dwelling explorer and he knew there was more than one way out of an alley. He walked towards one of the brick building walls and took a small running jump with his arms reaching up high above his head. His fingers caught on to the bottom ring of a fire escape ladder. Using skills honed to perfection in gymnastics class, Kurt swung his body forward, back, forward again before lifting his legs up to gracefully hook onto the underside of the railing. Moments later he was pushing himself up to his feet, ready to take the much more appealing stairs up the fire escape to the building roof. From up there he could travel blocks in any direction without the need to use the streets. He resisted the urge to look back down at Blaine, who was probably kicking himself for not being fast enough to stop him. 'Wait!' he heard him call, but Kurt was tired. Perhaps it was for the best his robbery had been foiled yet again by Blaine's appearance. His back ached bad from the increased hauling he had been doing that week so he told himself he would try again tomorrow after a well-earned rest. He had trudged up to the third floor level when he felt a tiny tremor under his feet. He looked down. Blaine was scrambling up, his legs flailing as his arms wrapped tightly on the bottom ladder to pull himself up. Kurt almost laughed. Sure, Blaine possessed strength he did not have and, yes, that meant he would eventually be able to muscle him up onto the stairwell, but it was one of the few situations that a graceful and well-proportioned gymnast frame was by far superior. It was almost cute the way the Nightbird grunted in his struggles. Kurt continued up the steps, albeit at a slightly faster pace.

'Come on, at least slow down!' Blaine complained, at last following up the stairwell. 'Why are you being so difficult tonight?' Kurt gritted his teeth to stop himself from answering back. _I want you to leave me alone. The bank is safe – take it as a win and let me go home._ Suddenly, Kurt felt something grab his foot and it almost caused him to fall forward. He looked though the gaps in the steps and saw Blaine's serious hazel eyes piercing up at him. He was lightly panting, having run up four levels in just a few seconds. 'Please, I just want to talk.' The grip on his ankle tugged a little, urging him to stay. Realising he would not be able to convince the dark haired hero to back off; Kurt rolled his eyes and released a frustrated sigh. He nodded, complying with Blaine's wishes by folding his arms and leaning back against the building wall halfway up the stairway. Blaine let go and slowly closed the space between them, pausing a respectable seven steps down. Kurt's stance and glare made it clear there would be no room for small talk, so Blaine cut to the chase. 'Why do you only take three and a half grand?' he asked, 'You seem quite meticulous not to take any more than that, according to the police reports. What's stopping you from clearing a whole bank out?'

'City law,' Kurt found himself replying in a voice that was practically robotic. He didn't want to show emotion. 'Any more than three and a half thousand and the banks can start claiming customer losses instead of company losses. I take the most I can without hurting innocent people. It's not their fault businesses can't put together half-decent security.'

The frown on Blaine's face deepened. 'What about the banks? Why should they cover the damages because _you_ stole what wasn't yours.'

'Because unlike some people, they can afford to patch up losses. All I've done is cut down their end-of-the-year bonuses,' Kurt couldn't help the bitterness which leaked into his words now. It was a sore point for him: Fawkesbridge City might have cleaned up its act in recent years but there was still injustice in the financial district. What self-respecting bank manager _didn't_ own a couple of yachts or vacation homes nowadays in this town?

He glanced back down towards his pursuer expecting to engage in a vicious battle of accusing stares but instead found that Blaine was now looking more down-trodden. He was saddened. Kurt felt himself disarmed in some manner and he didn't like it. Why was Blaine looking so sorry for him now? 'You're doing it for something specific, aren't you?' He said softly.

His heart hitting hard and his walls rising up like steel, Kurt turned completely to face him. 'I do it because I have to.' He growled.

'You don't have to.'

'That's real easy to say when you come from money, isn't it? Kurt hadn't meant to snap, really he hadn't, but his blood was boiling and his skin felt both hot and freezing cold all at once from the sudden reminder of how _unfair_ life was. Blaine was the perfect example of someone who had never had to think about money in his life. If he had wanted to, Blaine could have sailed through life but only through some miracle had he chosen to gain a profession. Normal people did not have that choice. Burt Hummel had been working all day, every day his whole life and his reward was a mass influx of bills each week with a side plate of cancerous cells too expensive to tackle.

Blaine was staring at him with wide eyes and a hint of panic in his semi-masked face. Kurt could not understand why, though he was almost unable to even care. _So what if I hurt the rich boy with a couple of cold-hard truths. He's old enough to take it._ It wasn't apparent what was wrong until Blaine spoke again, this time in shock and quiet concern. 'You know who I am?'

_Shit..._ Kurt's mouth fell open but was at a loss as to what to say. He hadn't meant to give such a fact away. His mind scrambled for some type of excuse to explain his previous statement but nothing came up, and too much time had passed now. Afraid that, with his identity at risk of being revealed, Blaine would try and attack him now, Kurt turned on his heel and ran up the fire escape. Even when he could not hear the other man follow, he did not slow down after reaching the roof or when jumping to the next building.

Blaine was just left with his hands clutching at the railing as he stared at where Kurt had been; his terrified expression forever etched in the thief's mind. 

* * *

'_Sam!'_

The blonde almost spilled his bowl of fruit loops all over himself at hearing his name shouted like that. He switched off his cartoons from the television and clambered round on the couch to watch his roommate sweep into their apartment. 'Dude, I'm right here!' Sam cried incredulously. His eyes focused on the black gloves on his friend's hands; the only sign that Blaine had been out as Nightbird that evening. 'Did you go out without me? Blaine, I told you not to!' The realisation was so shocking, he went as far as putting the cereal down.

Blaine took off his zipper and threw it with force against the wall; very uncharacteristic of him. He then began pacing the back of the living room and gave little attention to Sam's irritation. 'Sam, we have a problem.' He stated with a slight quiver to his voice.

Sam blinked. Was Blaine angry or upset? Both. His voice shook from both emotions. 'What problem?'

'He _knows_ about us,' Blaine moaned, rounding on him and his hands reached out as if clambering for Sam to understand him. 'The Shadow – the guy we've been chasing all this time and the guy who might just be caught by police eventually – he knows who we are! Or, at least, who I am. We are in so much shit-'

'Wait, hold up,' Sam approached and took him by his shoulders in an effort to calm him down. '_How?_'

'I don't know...' Came the weak reply. Blaine then fell onto the arm of the couch and slouched in defeat. 'I know you told me not to, but I went looking for him tonight. I just wanted to talk. I wanted to get why he's doing it and-and I think I was right; he's doing it for something. He's not a villain, Sam, he seems to be trying to- It doesn't matter!' He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head down by his knees. 'I was talking to him, trying to talk him out of it all, and he got mad and more or less admitted to knowing who I was. I asked him if he knew. His eyes told me everything.'

'But...how?'

'I don't know, Sam!' Blaine's head snapped up, anger flaring in his eyes though even the sometimes-ditsy Sam knew the fury was not truly aimed at him. A few more seconds of silence passed with both young men considering the situation. When Blaine spoke again, his voice was a little calmer though admittedly hoarse. 'He hasn't said anything yet. I truly don't think he would have told anyone if he's working alone. But sooner or later, the professionals at the police station are going to get wise to his routine. Sooner or later, they'll be lying in wait for him and they will have the numbers to capture him. And when that happens, I can see many different scenarios in which he spills out the truth about me. And let's face it,' he looked around their apartment, tired, 'if they find out I'm Nightbird, it'll take all of five seconds to pin you as the Blonde Chameleon.'

The full gravity of his words hit Sam hard and he leaned back against the bookcase. 'I guess even after all the good we do, we've probably broke a few laws along the way. They won't keep on seeing us as heroes after we've been unmasked, huh?'

Blaine groaned and rubbed his eyes. 'My whole career will be ruined. Dr Nightbird, on call for all the nutjobs or paparazzi who want to tear down my dad's legacy. The hospital is supposed to be passed on to me, too. If they don't lock us up for something, we'll be in danger the rest of our lives from people who want revenge. Sam...this is more dangerous than we ever gave it credit for.'

Finally understanding why his friend had come home in such a state, Sam was resolved to –for once – be the emotionally strong and supportive one. He nodded to himself for a while as his mind raced. The problem was all down to the Shadow and what he knew. 'We need to get him off the street,' he finally stated. Blaine looked up to him, clearly wishing he had said more than the obvious. 'Like you said, he'll get caught eventually. And when he does, our secret will be out – if it doesn't get out before then. We need to take him down.'

'We don't kill anyone, Sam,' Blaine reminded him softly. 'And our beating the shit out of bad guys won't cut it if we aren't going to hand him over to the cops afterwards. This is different to anything else we've done.'

But for Sam this was a lot more straightforward than his partner thought. 'You're right. You say he's not a villain – well, that's fantastic, it really is – but he's still a criminal. A criminal with a conscience, yeah?' He looked to Blaine for confirmation, which Blaine gave with a vaguely confused nod. Sam clapped his hands once and began circling the room with renewed purpose. 'He'll feel guilty about what he's done. If he has family or friends, he'll want his secret to be kept quiet. If we catch him and find out who _he_ is, then we can use that as blackmail.'

Blaine pulled a face. _Blackmail is such a crude word and ugly concept_. 'Blackmail?'

'Yeah – 'Stop robbing banks and don't reveal our identities _or_ we'll tell the whole world who you are and you'll go to jail for the rest of your life!' – That's what we'll say.'

Shaking his head, the dark haired man stood up and winced. 'I don't think that'll work. Even getting him to agree to it, we'll still be living our lives in fear of him telling others.'

'But at least with capturing him and finding out who he is, he doesn't have the complete upper hand.' Sam told him, determined.

Blaine went to argue but realised that – though overly simplistic – Sam's plan was better than his own. The part of his mind dedicated to ideas was currently a void. And if he were to really consider the situation, he would have had to agree that taking the Shadow into their own custody was probably necessary. 'Alright,' he sighed, raising his hands. 'Alright, I get what you mean. But, we're getting ahead of ourselves. How do we find _and_ trap him? Are you saying we...' He floundered for methods, '_booby-trap_ one of his upcoming hits with some type of excessive mechanism that-'

'I'll go research bank layouts!' Sam announced, not catching his friend's sarcasm at all. Blaine watched, feeling hopeless, as the blonde bounded out of the room with enthusiasm. He rubbed his eyes once more, with little of his anxiousness lost from earlier. There was a deep, heavy weight at the bottom of his stomach and it felt like it was getting too heavy for him to carry. Somehow he managed to heave himself up from the couch and walk to his bedroom. From there, he fell back on his office chair and swivelled round to his bombsite of a desk.

_I might as well plot out the Shadow's next potential targets and brainstorm ideas too._

Still, his frustration was getting the better of him and, as he pulled his laptop forward, he accidently swept some hospital papers onto the floor. He growled again as the notion that the whole world was against him for some reason hit him hard. He reached down to collect the mess. Thankfully, most of the sheets were stapled together and made for an easy clean up. They were applications for his mother's funding society which helped those in need with excessive hospital bills. He was due to hand over his selection of candidates for his mother's approval pretty soon but he was a little behind, thanks to a certain night-time distraction which had been dominating his thoughts. Speaking of the Shadow, his words echoed in Blaine's mind as he considered the applications_. 'That's real easy to say when you come from money, isn't it?'_ The young doctor was no fool: he knew he had been lucky growing up the way he did. His tendency to worry about those less fortunate was down to the fact that he rarely had anything to worry about himself. His world was fine, so he worked on helping the worlds of others. But even though he was aware of his circumstances, the words haunted him like a deep-cutting insult which was not only poisonous but felt (to his alarm) deserved. In his hands were the lives of people who were going through troubles he never would face. Was what he did enough?

Swallowing hard, he flicked through the papers only to find himself pausing over one name.

_Kurt Hummel_.

A small smile snuck its way onto the corner of his mouth. Placing all other applications off to one side, he looked through the essay and skimmed the lines he had highlighted the first time he read it a couple of months ago. His story was one that had caught him off-guard, and that was before meeting him in person.

Though he would not have admitted it aloud, Blaine had found his mind often drifting to the boy when he wasn't completely focused on the Shadow. At first he was convinced that his personal interest was as a result of Kurt's background and his resilient perseverance, but now he was very well aware of what was truly drawing him in: he was sorely taken by how tragically stunning Kurt had been when they met. Even when sleep deprived and at the bedside of his father in hospital he was captivating – from his big Bambi eyes and flawless complexion, to his timid voice and introverted physique that just pleaded for a little comfort.

The memory alone was enough. Biting his lip, Blaine glanced at his laptop screen. _It isn't like it is against the rules to just..._ He decided to indulge himself. He tapped into his internet search bar and typed in 'Kurt Hummel'. He unwittingly leaned forward as the results appeared. The first batch were mainly linked to the boy's high school, showing photos of him excelling in numerous classes and clubs. _Glee club? A boy after my own heart. Wait...cheerleading? Really?_ An amused grin graced Blaine's face as he scrolled down to the snapshot of Kurt in some form of competition, decked out in a figure-hugging red and white male outfit which showed off his killer legs. Blaine caught himself admiring the image a little too heavily. Something inside him stirred and he suddenly became aware that the weight which had taken root in his stomach had been replaced by an excited pull of attraction.

_I don't find anyone all that attractive in years and I find two people – the Shadow and a patient's son –in the space of a couple of months? Way to go, Blaine._ The sensation was so similar to what he felt when with the thief, which was comical when he considered how different they were. Someone as confident and sexy as Shadow was a world away from the classical beauty of one down-on-his-luck Kurt Hummel.

Blaine shook his head and laughed a little before choosing to stop being such a creep and close down the tabs he had opened. That was until he found himself back in his search results and spotted a link to a social networking site which Kurt seemed to have an account on. Unable to stop himself, he clicked on it. The page was set to private but still allowed Blaine to view a collection of photos which had been posted. There was nothing recent – the most up to date photo had been added almost a year ago. _That makes sense; his father probably got pretty bad after that. _Finally making peace with himself that he was, indeed, being very unprofessional by snooping around in such a way, Blaine shamelessly clicked through the album only to pause at a close-up of Kurt's face. He smiled back at the happy expression and bright eyes which lit up his screen. He gazed into the crystal pools of blue. Then, he felt a familiar tug inside.

His smile began to falter.

'Oh my God...' 

* * *

A.N. Yay, revelation! I'll upload the last chapter in this mini-series sometime this week. Please leave a review or PM and share your thoughts with me.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. Yay! I technically uploaded a story in a month! Okay, so the story was only four chapters long but...it's done! I want to focus on Funny Games so I don't see myself uploading the sequel to this for a couple of months. I'm not too sad about it, though; these throwaway fics are fun to do occasionally and I've already got the whole plot worked out so it'll (hopefully) be a breeze to write. I'll write a short summery of the sequel in case you're interested. In the meantime, thanks for reading this story - you're awesome. :) 

* * *

Chapter 4 

* * *

The street was deserted and still, as you would expect for a quiet residential area of the city at nearly two-thirty am on a Thursday morning. The black sky was clear and the stars twinkled, surpassing the effects of the streetlamps dotting up and down the rows of houses. Without a sound, the door at number one-hundred and twelve opened and a dark figure slipped out.

Kurt had been waiting for his father to start snoring before he considered it safe to make his exit. A backpack warming his shoulder blade, he began his brisk walk down the sidewalk. He thanked the heavens that the night was not as chilly as it could have been in the middle of the night; his upper body was dressed only in a gym vest, his hooded shirt still folded up in his bag. It was his routine to change into his concealing attire once he was further off out of his home neighbourhood on the off chance someone recognised him and connected him to the blurry photos of 'The Shadow' on TV. No, he would change when it was safe to do so. Otherwise, he was dressed for the night ahead.

His head was still pounding from when he had come to realise the looming deadline he had set for himself was no longer in his reach. If he were to continue hitting banks at the rate he was, he would not have enough cash for the much-needed cancer treatment at the end of the month. This mean the window of opportunity which the hospital had given them would be closed and Burt would be placed back on the waiting list – right at the bottom. The constant interruptions made by Nightbird and Chameleon – and the lag in Kurt's plans which followed as a result – was the reason for his falling behind, but what else could he do? It was not like he could increase the amount he took, after all he was resolved not to let his goal impact on the lives of innocent people. That only left one option: he had to up his game by hitting a new place every night. It would mean running himself deep into the ground and the risk of him getting caught would sky rocket but he saw no alternative route.

There had been a moment Kurt questioned whether he should give in and have faith that something would turn up which would help their situation, but then the sudden memory of his father on the kitchen floor tore such ideas out of his head. He had to do it.

_Snap!_

Turning on his heel in a flash, Kurt eyed the street behind him. He heard something. He _knew_ he did. He pushed himself against a nearby wall and let his tired-yet-hawk-like eyes roam the area. Nothing was out of place and the scene was as still as it had been before. He told himself off for getting jumpy, his rational mind accepting that an animal probably caused the noise he heard.

_Pull yourself together, Kurt, you need to have your wits about you if you want to actually accomplish a heist tonight. _

Though more self-assured, he still picked up the pace when he continued on. He walked for a further ten minutes until he reached the end of his district. He then took a sharp left to nestle between two fences. Concealed within the small gap which was barely big enough for one person to stand in, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out his shirt. A sense of liberated obscurity overcame him as he brought the hood up over his head and let it hide his face in a blanket of shadow. A deep intake of air later, he felt ready to act as his alter-ego. He hooked his bag over his shoulders and walked back out into the street-

-Only to be tackled straight back into the gap between the two fences. The blow to his mid section had taken him completely by surprise and the air in his chest was knocked out on impact. He fell back onto the ground. The object that hit him quickly took the shape of a person in his dazed eyes. They were big and heavy, which he discovered as they used their weight to pin him to the dirt. The space was too narrow to move much and Kurt's legs scrambled in what little room they had but he could do nothing. Was this a thug? Was he about to be mugged...or killed? Had he been venturing into this hidden hole to change clothes too often to go unnoticed? Kurt became aware that the person above him – a man – was not alone. Someone else stood as a silhouette at the entrance to their nook. Was this a gang attack?

'Quick-! Get him!' The man on top of him cried out in a youthful yet gruff voice. It was too dark to make anything out other than block masses. Kurt struggled against him but his wrists were grabbed and held above his head. He felt a second pair of hands run up his legs and he couldn't help but scream in panic as they drew up to his waist. Flashes of what could happen now snapped Kurt out of his stupor and straight into panic mode. The man above transferred Kurt's wrists to one hand in order to wrestle a cloth sack over his head, stifling his cries and now rendering him completely blind. The invisible hands at his waist peeled up his shirt to expose his navel.

'You need to hold him still or the needle will break – he's squirming too much,' Said a second voice. For some reason, though the sack and over his own yelling, Kurt felt like the second person sounded familiar. This did nothing to help his fear. The body on top bore down on him and the second person seemed to sit on his hips, stilling his erratic motions. 'That's perfect, keep him like that...'

A stinging sensation on his bare skin, just up from the waistband of his pants, brought Kurt into a whole new world of terror. What was going on? Someone had mentioned the word 'needle' – was he being drugged? Tears were spilling from Kurt's eyes.

_I never should have got messed up in this. I shouldn't be out here. It's all my fault; this is what I get for doing what I did. Please, don't hurt me. If you're going to kill me, make it quick so my dad doesn't have to hear the gruesome details when I'm found. Please, just... Stop doing...I'm sorry for what I..._

The boy's rapid breathing ceased dramatically in a matter of seconds. His eyes fell shut and his body stopped struggling, instead falling limp in the hands of the two men above him. The masked assailant who had been straddling his legs and who had administered the injection stood up and gave his partner a brief pat on the back. 'A taste of his own medicine,' He sighed and rubbed at his own stomach area gingerly, the memory of receiving such a drug from the Shadow a couple of weeks before now at the forefront of his mind. 'C'mon. He'll be out for hours but we'll have to get him back to our place, tied and secured, before I relax.' 

* * *

_Uh...What is that? Is that my head? Is that loud thumping sound the inside of my head? Oh my God, I think I might throw up if the world doesn't stop spinning. Wait...but everything's dark. Are- Are my eyes closed?_

With a groan so uncharacteristically rough, Kurt stretched his neck to one side and tentatively opened his eyes. The soft glow of a few far-off reading lamps were like globes of warm yellow. Despite knowing they were gentle, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut again and cringed at the painful effects they still had on his vision.

'I told you he was coming round,' An excited voice somewhere above caught him off guard.

A second voice which was considerably calmer and more reserved followed. 'And I believed you. C'mon, step back. Give him some room.'

At opening his eyes once more, Kurt realised the true horror of his situation; he was in a strange place that, as it came into better view, looked more and more unfamiliar and foreign. The wall he had been facing was covered in posters of what Kurt could only assume were heavy metal bands he had never heard of, judging by the grungy men holding guitars and idiotic names that were either linked to or rhymed with 'death'. _What kind of seventh hell is this place?_ He twisted on the mattress he found himself lying on and was alarmed to come face-to-face with a blonde male whose mouth, which was mere inches from Kurt's eyes, looked ready to gobble him up. 'Hey,' The blonde was smiling now and the mouth seemed far more kind and unthreatening as a result. 'Don't be scared, dude. Can you get up?'

Kurt blinked and stuttered nonsensical words in response. What was going on? He strained his memory for something – anything! – which would give some type of clue as to where he was. He recalled checking three times that his dad had taken his medication before putting him to bed. He could remember tugging on his sneakers in the hallway and slipping out into the street, making his way towards the little gap between fences where he usually changed into his hooded shirt. But...after that it was just a blur of rapid movement, panic and dizziness. He had been attacked. Suddenly the young man staring down at him seemed dangerous once more. 'Sam, I said give him room...' The blonde named Sam was pulled back by the second stranger in this apparent bedroom. Only, he was no stranger. Doctor Blaine Anderson came into view, dressed in a pair of slacks and a college sweatshirt. He considered Kurt with a concerned gaze. 'This must be a little overwhelming, I know. Are you in pain? I think you might have knocked your head pretty bad. I can get an ice pack.'

His words went more or less unheard as a striking notion of dread tore through Kurt's insides. His hand drifted up from his side to his face. Cool fingers shakily felt around his temples and his fears were realised; he was not wearing his mask. He staggered up onto his elbows and caught sight of his missing mask lying on a nearby nightstand.

_They know who I am..._

Tears formed in his eyes before he could comprehend why. His whole world was falling around him as it hit him that his secret was out. He was caught. His life was over and he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail and his poor father would suffer because of his own recklessness and stupidity. What had he been thinking? It was all his fault, and he knew it. He swallowed down hard but it proved to be difficult. The back of his head pounded and he couldn't help but wince. Blaine caught his pain and immediately moved forward to press a sealed bag of ice against the prominent lump hidden beneath his bed-hair. Kurt sniffed and turned away out of shame. He ignored the doctor's offer of some meds that would dull the ache. Instead, he took a few shaky breaths and asked 'Have you already called the police?'

The room fell silent. Kurt then turned his eyes up to the two other men – now making the connection that the blonde stranger was, in fact, the famous Chameleon – and found them to be surprised by his question. 'What makes you think we'd want the police to come here? We have our own secret to keep.' Blaine mused, thoughtful.

'Because I believe you guys know I wouldn't reveal who you are,' Kurt replied miserably, 'I'm not that kind of person. You know that.' Blaine sighed as Kurt glanced momentarily up at him. 'Or were you planning on taking me down to the station to hand me over directly?'

'We were kinda hoping it wouldn't come to that,' Sam sat down at the foot of the bed, causing Kurt to scoot his legs up as best he could despite the remaining effects of the drugs slowing his motions.

'What... What do you mean?' Kurt had reason to be wary. He was a good enough person not to try to take them down with him by blurting out who they were to the cops, and he knew in his heart that Blaine knew that. Their secret was safe. But Kurt had still broken the law _several_ times, and the duty of Nightbird and Chameleon was to bring criminals like him to justice. He couldn't be a special case; that was not _just_.

Blaine moved a chair forward so that he was able to sit right by Kurt's side as the boy crawled up into the back corner and hugged his legs. The doctor's eyes on him were soft and caring. 'Let me help you. You said you only do what you do because you have no other choice, and normally when people say stuff like that it's bullshit, but for you...' He shook his head and sighed deeply. 'I believe you. You're in a hopeless situation with no one to turn to for help-'

'How can you help me?' Kurt didn't mean to sound so harsh but his defences were raising and his 'fight or flight' instinct was not doing much for his panic levels. 'It's not like you can just give me the money-

'My dad would agree.' Blaine interrupted in the most light-hearted, humoured tone. He glanced at Sam with a knowing grin before looking back to Kurt. 'He says that we can't help everyone and that trying to would just be meaningless drops in the charity ocean. And as much as I love and admire my father, Kurt, there is so much about him I can't respect.' His smile became less playful, and his honey-hazel eyes turned serious. 'I'm able to help you. You were right; I come from money. The treatment costs are nothing to me and I have some favours to cash in – it'll all be anonymous. It will all be legal. The cash you stole will find its way back to the banks they first came from and sooner or later the police will decide chasing after the Shadow is not worth their time.'

Dumbstruck, Kurt initially could not find the words to respond to such a ridiculous suggestion. 'I-I can't accept that...' He said with utter conviction and there was a hint in his tone which betrayed the fact he thought the two other men had gone temporarily insane.

'It's either that or be arrested, dude,' Sam shrugged, as if it was as simple as that. Perhaps it was that simple.

'But-But what about all those other people who are in my situation?' Kurt stuttered, his stare darting between the two heroes. 'How is that fair on them? You're making it out as if my circumstances are...special.' Guilt hit him hard.

A fond gaze set upon Blaine's face and he chuckled lightly under his breath as he reached out and gently took the boy's hand. 'Well, you are special.' He reasoned, 'By helping you, we finally bring an end to the harassment of bank safes all over the city. And by not handing you in we can make sure a guy, who's only 'sin' was wanting to save his father, stays out in the world where he can make a difference. You aren't a bad guy, Kurt. Not in your heart.'

The tears he had been holding back with great resilience could not be halted any further: Kurt felt himself weeping. Seconds later, completely unsure as to how he got there, he found himself deep in the embrace of the man who had been chasing him over the past month. And, without his mask and hood, Kurt had nothing to hide behind. He was just Kurt. And from the way Blaine's warm, strong hands rubbed up and down his back he figured Blaine was not complaining. 

* * *

'Dad, stop reading. The nurses will be in any second to take you away and, believe it or not, you can't take that newspaper into surgery.'

Kurt reached out to steal the paper from his father's grip but the older man leaned away. 'I'm finishing off this story about the serial bank robber!' Burt cried, elbowing the grabby hands off him. He peered down at the article and let out a low whistle. 'I don't know what was going on. First he takes this weird amount of money from a bunch of places and then returns the cash – _in full!_ – all in one night? What's this guy's game, huh? It's like he was just trying to prove he can outsmart security systems or something.' Kurt bit his bottom lip but otherwise remained passive. 'Probably gets some ego trip out of it.' Burt finished, folding up the newspaper and tossing it off to the side of his hospital bed.

'Probably,' Kurt breezed past the topic and fussed over his dad's sheets. 'So, you are completely prepped, right? Do you want to go to the bathroom one last time?' He paused, second guessing himself, 'Wait, are you allowed to use the bathroom? Crap, I wasn't listening when Dr Anderson was explaining it all – are you even allowed to be drinking water right now?'

Before Kurt could take the cup of water from his father's hands, Blaine sauntered in and calmly pulled Kurt away. 'Yes, he can use the bathroom _and_ drink, Kurt, but thank you for nominating yourself for the part of 'unnecessarily worrisome family member',' Kurt swatted him, pouting. Blaine turned his smiling face to the patient. 'Burt, they're ready for you now.' As if on cue, three nurses entered and began stabilising Burt's bed wheels. 'We'll see you again in a few hours.'

For someone who was minutes away from undergoing a surgical procedure, Burt was incredibly blasé about it all. He hummed in mild interest, his mouth turning up ever so slightly as his eyes noticed the barely existing gap between his son and the young doctor. He had been young and prone to infatuation once; he recognised there was something there. 'It's funny, huh?' He commented airily, causing Kurt and Blaine to tilt their heads in question. 'I mean, when I was told I was chosen to be funded for a new and quick moving course of private treatment, I had no idea it would all happen this fast.' He cocked a brow at the dark haired man in the white coat. 'An anonymous benefactor, huh? I hope one day I'm able to thank them in person.'

Kurt narrowed his eyes, wondering what his dad was implying as he shuffled awkwardly back and forth on each foot. Blaine simply smiled as if it had just been a throwaway sentiment, wishing him luck as the nurses steered Burt out of the room and down the corridor to surgery. 'I'll see you soon, dad!' Kurt couldn't help but call anxiously. He wanted to go after him, to force the surgeon to let him be nearby – to hell with hygiene protocol! – but thankfully Blaine caught him by the hand and encouraged him to remain strong. Sighing, Kurt turned into him and let his forehead fall on the doctor's ever-available shoulder.

A few hours later, both would still be together when they heard the news the procedure was a roaring success. 

* * *

Squeaking bedsprings and vague thumps as the headboard knocked sharply against the wall - Nightbird's bedroom was emitting sounds of a very suggestive nature.

Sheets were entangled in a sweaty mess between their legs. Hands were roaming and nails were scraping down over bare skin. Blaine gasped sharply as the lips running up his thigh gave way to a strong tongue which teasingly came to a mere half-inch from where he really wanted them to go. His hand dove down to try and steer Kurt's head back in the 'right' direction, but the boy giggled and struggled out of his grasp. They shoved against one another, each trying to gain the upper hand, but their bodies were so hot and wet they succeeded only in panting heavily into one another's mouth as their desire burned stronger. Surprising himself as the more vocal of the two, Blaine could not hold back the loud and glorious groan as his member was caught between Kurt's legs.

'Shh!' Kurt hushed him anxiously, trying not to laugh. He pressed a finger to Blaine's lips to stifle him. 'Do you want Sam to hear us?'

Thoroughly _un_-bothered by that prospect, Blaine shrugged. 'I suffered through years of having to listen to Sam and his long list of girlfriends,' He claimed, 'I think it's about time the tables turned.'

Kurt laughed and used this moment to catch his breath, leaning his head on Blaine's chest so he could gaze up at him. 'Well, I'm sure you'll catch up with Sam soon enough.' He licked his lips suggestively, 'After all, there's a lot of spare time between now and when I start back at college. And you know that even if I'm helping you two out on the streets, it won't be enough to rid me of all this pent up energy.'

'Is that so?' Blaine placed his forearms behind his head before issuing a small frown. 'Giving so much of yourself in bed and out on the streets... You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that you are only being available to me because of my money, family name and prestige. I think you're playing me like a fool.'

His eyes danced in playfulness but Kurt was already aware he was joking. Still, Kurt was not one to shy away from a game. He smirked and played along. 'Well, of _course_ I am. Why else would I be attracted to you?' Blaine's eyes flashed and he shifted up to stare more closely into his eyes. 'And remember...I like my men _unassuming_,' Kurt flicked Blaine's nose with one long, slender finger, 'and weak. You're perfect for me.'

Blaine was quick to feign offence. 'Weak? _Me?_ Well, now I am downright affronted, Mr Hummel. I am so much stronger than you.' And to prove his point, Blaine whipped his arms out from behind his head and grabbed Kurt's wrists tightly. He then wrestled him over onto his back and straddled his waist, pinning the smaller male's hands above his head. 'And you know I am,' he matched his smirk, leaning down close to ghost his mouth over Kurt's flushed-pink lips.

He was particularly proud of the turned-on blaze of attraction in the crystal blue eyes gazing back up at him. Kurt was definitely enjoying it. The boy carefully tested his restraints, finding Blaine's grip unwavering, before lying back on his boyfriend's bed. 'Oh? Need I remind you, Nightbird, of all the times you failed to catch me? I hate to break it to you but you are so easily overcome.'

The smug smile reminded Blaine of the time he had been drawn into vulnerability and then rendered powerless after being injected. He hummed and sat back on Kurt's hips. 'That reminds me,' He let go of Kurt's hands and began rubbing the boy's bare chest sensually, 'What exactly was in that needle of yours? Please tell me it was sterilised.' He was a doctor, after all. He had to care about stuff like that.

Kurt moaned quietly, momentarily lost in pleasure as his lover's fingertips tampered with his shy nipples. He stretched out, his smirk widening. 'You mean the one that knocked you out like a little kitten?' He teased, 'Don't worry, it was clean. It was my own mix. I used to take it when I was a teenager to help me sleep.'

Blaine tutted at him and brought his hands up to gently grasp at his boyfriend's perfectly creamy neck. 'Such a bad boy, you are. As a doctor, there's no way I can condone such an unprofessional and experimental concoction. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate all you have left. You can't be trusted.' His voice was thick and brimming with desire as he was drawn into a kiss.

When they broke apart, Kurt's eyes were still closed and his mind still partially lost in their closeness. 'Whatever you say, doctor. I have one dose in my bag. I keep it close to hand in case another jumped-up hero tries to take me down.'

Together they laughed, merging their grins into sweet kisses on the mouth and along the jaw line. 'I don't want you to worry about that happening,' Blaine spoke softly against his lips, his hand coming up to ease through Kurt's brown locks, 'You have me to look after you now. I'll keep you safe.'

'I know,' Kurt replied, his voice barely above a whisper. For many moments, they gazed at one another. Fingers rubbed circles on bare skin. Their naked frames melted together and fit like a perfect jigsaw. At long last, Kurt broke out into a mischievous giggle. 'I've got a better idea on how to use my sleeping serum,' he murmured, his lips turning up slightly.

'Oh? How?' Blaine asked, loving how naughty Kurt looked like now.

Without warning, Kurt slipped his legs out from under him and managed to flip them over so that he was once again on top. He nestled down on Blaine's hips and his wandering hands strolled down to capture his hardening cock. Blaine became breathless again and his eyes eager for more. The younger man then slowly leaned forward to whisper 'We slip it to Sam.'

Not expecting that at all – and admittedly irked that in a moment of sexual arousal Kurt had dared mention his clueless roommate – Blaine grew confused. 'Uh, why?'

With a sly smile, Kurt angled his hips and bore down on Blaine's erection with a grinding motion. Stars and flashes of pleasurable white took over Blaine's vision. Kurt's hand knotted the tip of his head which brought Blaine to an extreme edge in a matter of seconds. A thick and audible cry of ecstasy tore through his throat – something which Kurt took great pleasure in stifling with his hand. The boy then brought his lips down to his exposed ear. 'So we can be as loud as the hell we want.'

Unable to take any more playing around, Blaine released an animalistic growl and ferociously tackled Kurt up against the bedposts so he could finally claim his prize. 

* * *

Sequel Summery: A real and very dangerous villain comes to town - coincidently at the same time Blaine's old schoolmate returns to the city. The newly formed trio of heroes think it just another bad guy to bust but their confidence is short lived when one of them is kidnapped and held ransom – but is that all there is to it? WARNINGS: Mental &amp; emotional torture, brainwashing, violence, both consensual and non-consensual sex.


End file.
